Elena's POV
I wake before the sun, because I wanted to, not because I'm rested. But because my body doesn't seem to know what to do with itself anymore here. Lying here in the unfamiliar cold of the guest room feels like sleeping in a stranger's house, like the walls themselves know I don't belong. Like the room was about to choke me and I had to leave any time soon
For a few seconds, I just stare at the ceiling. There's a faint crack near the corner I never noticed before. The air smells faintly of the lavender detergent the housekeeper uses on the sheets, but instead of calming me, it makes my chest feel tight. My throat aches from holding back tears last night, but the ache is dull, heavy, and old like it's been sitting there for years, waiting for a moment like this.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed. My toes curl against the cool floor, and I tell myself to stand. To move. To do anything except lie here and let the silence swallow me.
